


The Marriage Counsellor

by sweeterthanthis



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Cheating, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Fucking, Infidelity, Oral Sex, Sex, Unprotected Sex, pussy eating, slight exhibitionism, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanthis/pseuds/sweeterthanthis
Summary: Growing tired of your husbands infidelities, marriage counselling seems to be the only option. Little did you know the kind of service you’d receive.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	The Marriage Counsellor

Tuesday, 5pm.

The most excruciating hour of your week, bar none.

Your husband hadn’t been keen on the idea of therapy, but then of course he hadn’t – he was the reason you were there in the first place. His countless infidelities throughout your marriage had driven you to breaking point, and your confidence had been knocked just that little bit more each time you found new evidence. The smell of perfume on his work shirts, the credit card bills, the secretive phone calls, and the latest, a pair of worn panties in the pocket of his jacket.

He hadn’t fucked you in almost six months. You’d been counting. He blamed it on many things; work, he was tired, he had a headache. Those were the excuses you’d come to expect, and now you barely bothered trying to initiate anything at all.

Aside from a quick peck on the lips in the morning before you waved him off to work, and a lacklustre cuddle at bedtime; he barely touched you.

This was your third session with Dr Drysdale, and you were just as pent up and uncomfortable as the first. Your husband refused to discuss your sex life in front of another man, said it was degrading and unnecessary.

“Mrs Y/L/N, why don’t you tell your husband how it makes you feel when he rejects your advances?”

You shifted in your seat, the leather sticking to the backs of your knees. Crossing one leg over the other, you clutched the pearls around your neck, knowing full well that your husband wouldn’t have a thing to say in return. Not here, not anywhere.

“Look, no disrespect Doctor, but I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

You watched as Dr Drysdale closed his notebook, setting it down on the side table next to his armchair. He knitted his fingers together in his lap, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into the plush leather. How had you never noticed how attractive he was before? How big he was? The way his biceps flexed beneath his luxurious sweater had your tummy fluttering.

“I disagree, Y/H/N. And please, call me Ransom. This is a safe space, and I think it’s important that Y/N is given the opportunity to speak freely about the issue of intimacy. Please Y/N, tell your husband how it makes you feel.”

Your husband let out an agitated sigh, leaning as far away from you as he could possibly get. A part of you didn’t see the point in the exercise, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears. The other part of you thought, fuck it.

“As we’ve discussed in our previous sessions, my husband has not been…the best when it comes to remaining faithful. We’ve not made love in six months, and its not for lack of me trying.”

You could feel him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks flustered as you outed him once again for his monumental fuck ups. But the bravery was building inside of you, and once you started, you couldn’t stop.

“I’ve tried candlelit dinners, expensive lingerie, sending the children to their grandparents house for the weekend so we could have some time alone. Yet every single time, he says he’s not in the mood. It makes me feel neglected, knowing that he’s probably fucking his secretary over his desk while I’m at home taking care of our family.”

“Y/N!” Your husband hissed, growing tiresome of hearing your home truths.

“This is good, your wife needs to get this off her chest before the two of you can figure out which path to take.” Ransom took a sip of his water, and you realised you’d never noticed how large his hands were before. Or how plump and perfect his lips were. “What was the sex like between the two of you before this tough period?”

Your husbands head shot up; his eyes full of vitriol for the question that had been put before you. You’d never been honest with him about that, and he’d never asked. You could lie, say everything was perfect, but you were paying $300 per hour and now was as good a time as any.

“It was…okay.” You looked away from both of them, your eyes fixing themselves on the trees outside. “It was, you know, normal enough. Not as passionate as I would have liked.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you tear me to pieces like this. The woman I married knew how to be respectful and demure, and here you are telling a stranger how fucking terrible I am in the sack.”

He stood up then, gathering his jacket and running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Respectful? You want to talk about respect? Were you respecting your wife while you were fucking some whore on our wedding anniversary?”

He’d heard enough, stomping towards the door, his hand lingering on the brass handle as he turned back to look at you. He was furious, more so than you’d ever seen him.

“I’ll be in the car; I won’t listen to this for a minute longer.”

In a moment he was gone, slamming the wooden door behind him, and causing the mass of framed diploma’s and paintings on the wall to shudder in his wake. You felt blood rush to your cheeks, embarrassment washing over you as you stared down into your lap.

“I’m so sorry, Dr Drysdale. I suppose its hard for a man to hear that kind of thing, but it’s no excuse for behaving that way.” You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, anything to avoid the look of pity you knew he was sending your way.

“Again, call me Ransom. And please don’t apologise, your husband is clearly struggling to accept responsibility for his part in this.” You watched him as he poured a fresh glass of water, leaning forward out of his chair and holding it out for you to take. Giving him a thankful smile, you reached out for the glass, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread throughout your abdomen when your skin connected with his, and you blushed again. “So, Y/N, tell me more about your concerns.”

“About our sex life?” He nodded for you to continue; his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. “Oh, okay. Well, I supposed we’ve always been fairly…safe? If that’s even the right word. We’ve never been a very spontaneous couple, especially since the children came along.”

“It can be exceedingly difficult to fit romance in around young children, understandably so, but it seems there’s a larger issue at play here. Forgive me for asking, but if you were to fix these issues with your husband, would you be content with the calibre of sex? Is there anything you would change? This is a safe space, and what you tell me is completely confidential.”

You were by no means a prude, but his question had your head spinning. The thought of telling him about your inner most fantasies felt wrong, unnatural, and the intensity in his bright blue eyes was unnerving. Clutching the glass in your hands, you stared down into the clear, icy water, watching the condensation drip down the side and onto your cream coloured pencil skirt.

“I suppose I would like it if he took control a little bit more.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to muster the courage to speak truthfully. Clearing your throat, you continued. “It often felt, what’s the word, robotic? Lacklustre, and one-sided. Like it was a chore, not to be enjoyed too much. Does that make sense?”

“Completely. A beautiful woman like yourself deserves to feel desired.” You watched as his eyes travelled from the tip of your stilettos to your chest, and then finally up to meet your stare. Warmth gathered at the apex of your thighs, your pulse quickening under the weight of his gaze. “Tell me, do you pleasure yourself? You obviously have urges that aren’t being satiated, and it’s perfectly healthy too.”

The atmosphere in his office was shifting, thick with tension. You don’t know why you kept talking, any sane human being would have deemed in an inappropriate question and refused to answer. You on the other hand…

“I do, yes. Usually when my husband is asleep next to me…” You paused for a moment, watching as he uncrossed his legs, feet apart in front of him. Your eyes travelled to his crotch, and you could have sworn you saw him smirk as you whipped your head away. “It’s terribly embarrassing.”

“I disagree. Like I said, it’s perfectly natural to seek pleasure. When you touch yourself, where does your mind take you?”

You stood up then, unable sit across from him and let him into the deepest parts of your mind so freely. Looking out of the window, you spied your husband, waiting for you in the car as promised. He was on the phone, smiling a smile that you hadn’t been gifted for years. Sadness washed through you, followed closely by rage.

“I think about being fucked, like really fucked you know? I think about being completely ravaged, no inhibitions, no hesitancy.” You dare not look over your shoulder, a part of you wondering if he was internally cringing at your confessional, or even worse, pitying you.

“Do you think of your husband, Y/N?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, shame radiating through you as you shook your head. You’d come this far, there was no use in lying now.

“No, no I don’t. That’s awful, isn’t it?” You turned to face him again, his facial expression perfectly calm and reserved, but his eyes – oh god, his eyes. If his stare became any more intense, you’d be a quivering wreck. “Doctor?”

“Apologies, Y/N. I’m just struggling to understand why your husband shies away from such a sexually explorative woman like yourself. Your needs are important, and you should never feel ashamed of craving intimacy.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, blinking them away before they rolled down your cheek and gave you up. Turning back towards the window, desperate to free yourself of his intense stare, you watched your husband again.

“He’s talking to her, yes?” You nodded, listening as his footsteps grew closer behind you. “How does that make you feel?”

“Angry, ashamed. It’s been going on for years. I’m used to it now.” God, you sounded pathetic. You wanted to shake yourself, tell yourself to get a grip, that you deserved better.

“It’s perfectly understandable to feel that way, Y/N. Never be ashamed. His actions are not a reflection of who you are.” You didn’t turn around to face him, but you knew he was closer now. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, unable to process the feelings of lust towards him. He was your therapist, your marriage counsellor, and all you could think of was him railing you over his desk. “Have you ever considered being unfaithful yourself?”

If anyone had asked you that question an hour ago, you’d have said no; and it would have been the truth. But now he was so close that you could feel his hot breath on your neck, setting every nerve ending in your body aflame.

“Yes.” You whispered, your eyes clenching shut, unable to watch your husband any longer. “I have. That would make me just as bad as him, wouldn’t it?”

It didn’t feel like a therapy session any longer, and you wished he’d just take the decision away from you, push you up against the wall and kiss the breath right out of you.

“Would it? Or would it just make it even?” You felt him brush up against the small of your back, barely an inch between the two of you. “You are beautiful, sexy, and you deserve to be fucked.”

The extra emphasis he placed on that final word made your knees tremble, reaching out to grip the window sill in front of you to keep you upright. You thought maybe you’d been imagining it. That maybe you were just so sex-starved, your instincts were off. But when his finger traced the curve of your neck, you knew you had a choice to make.

“If I had a woman like you waiting at home for me, I’d pleasure her every night. Fuck her until she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone how to walk afterwards.”

You blew out a heavy breath, feeling something firm pressing into the curve of your ass. You looked down at your husband again, expecting to feel guilt and shame. Instead, all you felt was a rush of validation. You felt wanted for the first time in what felt like forever, and you weren’t about to give up that feeling.

“You’re trembling, Y/N. All that pent-up frustration isn’t healthy.” His palms kneaded your shoulders firmly, but slow. Your head rolling back and lulling against his chest as his touch sent sparks throughout your body. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

You whimpered, unable to deny him as one hand travelled down your front, popping the buttons on your silk blouse one by one, his hulking form overshadowing yours from behind.

For a moment you panicked, afraid that your husband would look up and see exactly what Ransom was doing to you, but then he rolled your nipples between his fingertips through the lace of your bra and all coherent thought left your body.

“These tits deserve to be worshipped by someone who knows how to treat you right.” One hand travelled further, down to your thigh. “I can show you how you deserve to be fucked, Y/N. All you have to do is say the word.”

His chin rested on your shoulder as he leant down, breath hot in you ear, taking the hem of your skirt between his fingers and tugging it up roughly, taking charge just like you’d wanted.

“Oh god…” You whispered, to nobody in particular, his erect cock grinding against your ass vulgarly. “My husband…”

“Your husband is an asshole who doesn’t realise he has prime fucking rib at home…” His large hand cupped your pussy through your panties, chuckling darkly in your ear as he felt how damp they were. “Me on the other hand, I see you. That tight ass, those legs, these tits, this pussy.”

He squeezed, a rush of pleasure swarming your insides when he pulled your panties tight against your desperate, wanting flesh. You couldn’t help the wanton moan that rang through the air, your mind clouded with thoughts of him fucking you. It was an easy decision to make.

“Please, Ransom. I need to feel something…” You begged, grinding yourself down onto his palm unashamedly.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you feel sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

You fell back into him as he pulled your panties to one side, pushing two thick fingers into you, pulling your tits free from the lacy confines of your bra with the other. His mouth worked your throat while his fingers filled you over and over, each time sliding in a little further, pressing into the spongey flesh inside of you, a spot that had been neglected for years.

“Fuck…” You cried, reaching behind you to palm at the rock-hard bulge in his trousers. He was huge. His other arm circled your waist, reaching down to trace little circles over your swelling clit. The tension in your stomach was already building, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this close to release at the hand of another. “It’s coming…”

Your words spurred him on, his fingers thrusting harshly up inside you now while he worked your clit expertly.

“You’ve been touch starved for so long sweetheart, just let it go…” he cooed in your ear, the scent of his aftershave intoxicating your senses. You shivered, his ministrations causing you to come apart in his hands. Your knees shook, body trembling uncontrollably as your eyes rolled back in your head. You’d made a mess, soaking his fingers, months of pent up need coming to a head all at once. “That’s it, good girl.”

What he did next shocked you. You watched him withdraw his fingers, raising them to his lips and lapping at them greedily, like a man starved. Your eyes were wide, mouth open in wonder.

“Fuck, you taste so good. See?” With his index finger resting on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take your eyes off his face. How had you not realised how fucking gorgeous he was? You couldn’t help yourself, sucking at the tip of his finger before taking it all the way into your mouth, right down to the knuckle and back again. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his throat, eyes closing for just a moment as he revelled in the moment. “I need to see this.”

He sank to his knees behind you, one palm splayed out against your lower back bending you over slightly. You felt him peel your panties down over the curve of your ass, and the sound that he made once your pussy was on full display nearly had you cumming a second time.

“Your husband is a fucking asshole, look at this pretty pussy…”

He dove right in, his tongue running the length of your sodden centre, from hole to clit in one sweep. Falling forwards slightly, you gripped the window sill once again, pushing yourself back onto his mouth. His palms kneaded your cheeks, pulling them apart for better access. His nose nudged at your asshole as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, his thumbs holding your pussy lips apart.

“That feels fucking amazing. Please, please don’t stop.” You begged, resting your forehead against the window.

He reached around, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves once again, the pace of his circular motions matching that of his tongue perfectly.

Your second orgasm crept up on you with no warning, pathetic cries of pleasure echoing through the air, your hole quivering around his talented tongue. He moaned into you, vibrations rattling your core as he lapped up every drop.

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s one tasty little pussy.” His praise made your chest swell, his lips peppering soft kisses across your cheeks as he rose up to his feet. In a move that both frightened and aroused you, he wrapped his hand around your throat, holding your back flush against his broad chest. “Your husband is right there; he’s got no idea someone else is about the fuck the shit out of his wife.”

Hand squeezing your windpipe, he led you backwards to the leather couch, falling down onto it. You landed in his lap, desperately reaching behind you to free him from the confines of his trousers.

“Go on baby, take what you need.”

You spun around then, sitting back on his knees as you unbuckled his belt. He took you by surprise when he held your face in his hands, crashing his soft lips to your own, his tongue still coated in the salty-sweet tang of your pussy juice.

Finally freeing him, you wrapped your palm around him, your fingers unable to touch. He was so fucking thick. Not much bigger than your husband, but at least double the girth. The thought of him fucking you with that big dick had your insides squirming in anticipation.

You kept your lips on his as you pumped him in your hand, your kisses sloppy and careless. He pulled your silk blouse down over your shoulders, letting fall gracefully to the floor by his feet. Biting down on your bottom lip, he released you, his attention turning to your pebbled nipples as he sucked them into his mouth one after the other.

“Ransom…” You were writhing against him now like a cat in heat, desperate for him to fill you up to the hilt and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. “Need your cock.”

Sitting up on your knees, you watched as he lined himself up with your centre, whining when the tip of him nudged your throbbing clit.

“You’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

One brutal thrust and he was seated within you to the hilt, your walls stretching to accommodate his massive girth. You struggled to breathe, as he punched into you a second time, watching you as your bones turned to mush on his lap.

Bliss overcame you, the desperate need to pleasure yourself on his cock overriding any other thought in your head. You wound your hips, back and forth, side to side, grinding your clit down onto the neatly trimmed patch of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

His feet were planted flat on the floor, his hips raising up to meet each of your thrusts with his own. Your tits bounced obscenely as you rode him, not a care in the world for anything going on outside that office.

“Your husband ever fuck you like this, baby?”

The words should have made your gut twist with guilt, but they didn’t. Instead you found yourself shaking your head, brazenly quickening your strides as his words spurred you on even more.

“Look at that pussy, stuffed full of dick. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes…” His hands kneaded your ass, a forceful slap to your left cheek jutting you forward. Your desperate cries only encouraged him, his hand wrapping around your throat once again as you fucked him into the couch. “Harder.”

“Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

His grip tightened around your airway, your cheeks flushing red as you struggled to breathe. Still, you rode him. Hard and fast, his cock smashing against your cervix each time you lowered yourself back down onto him. Discomfort gave way to the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt, your third orgasm crashing into you like a freight train.

“Fuck, that pussy is squeezing the shit out of my dick.” He released his grip on your throat slightly, allowing you to breathe properly once again. “I’m close…”

He allowed you to ride out your orgasm before lifted you off of him with immense ease, planting you on your knees on the rug beneath you. You looked up at him, the sight of him pumping his cock furiously above you telling you exactly what he wanted.

You opened your mouth, tongue flat against your chin and you waited.

“Fuck!” He growled, one hand buried in your hair as hot, sticky ropes of cum smattered against your tongue, lips and chin.

Leaning up on your knees, you sucked the tip of him into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. He trembled before you, his legs shaking, and breaths ragged.

Swallowing the lot, and licking your lips clean, you smiled up at him. You had never been so satisfied in your life, and the glowering disappointment that was your husband made its way back to the forefront of your mind.

Ransom reached out a hand for you to take, helping you up off the floor and wiping away the remainder of his seed from your chin, his fingers hooking into your mouth as you suckled at them.

“That is how you deserve to be fucked, sweetheart.”

xoxo

You looked surprisingly well put together when you left Ransom’s office, sauntering back to your husbands car with a spring in your step and a filthy smirk on your face. Turning to look back over your shoulder, you spied him in the window, only then realising how clear the view was from the parking lot.

You smiled at him, a grateful smile, a smile that told him you’d be back again soon.

Unsurprisingly, your husband didn’t suspect a thing, too wrapped up in his own embarrassment to notice your swollen lips, or the scent of Ransom’s cum still lingering on your body.

“$300 per hour? What a fucking waste. You won’t get me back in that office again, I’m telling you that right now.”

All you could do was stare out of the window, smirking to yourself as you listened to your husband rant.

Your pussy was still drenched from Ransom’s assault, and you could feel the ghost of him inside you. You couldn’t wait to have him split you open again.

“That’s okay honey, I think I’ve got some kinks I need to work out by myself anyway.”


End file.
